


look how long this love can hold its breath

by mandjalorian



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Marriage, Masturbation, No use of y/n, Self-Insert, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 12:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22969912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandjalorian/pseuds/mandjalorian
Summary: When Pablo Escobar escalates his war on Colombian law enforcement, the DEA is getting desperate to pin down his location. Reader is forced to go undercover with another agent, one she can’t stand, Javier Peña. Worst of all, she’ll have to try to infiltrate the narcos while pretending to be Peña’s wife. [Slow burn. Fake married. Enemies (not so much enemies as work rivals) to Lovers.]
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 100
Kudos: 261





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s a generally overdone trope but I couldn’t resist doing my own version of fake married Javi with a pretty antagonistic reader. Hope you all enjoy!

You’d been assigned to an undercover assignment of sorts. You were infiltrating the Cali Cartel. Sort of. The mission was simply to gain inside information on Escobar’s whereabouts. To finally bring that hijo de puta down.

The only problem was your assigned partner.

_Javier fucking Peña._

You’d never worked with him, but you knew his reputation as a womanizer. His machismo. And, worst of all, he was an American.

You’d encountered him briefly on separate occasions in the briefing room and each time he’d rubbed you the wrong way. He had a habit of talking over you and every other woman in the unit. Well, honestly, him and his partner Murphy liked to talk over everyone but- to put it plainly, you didn’t like Javier Peña.

“What’s the plan?” You asked in your typical no-nonsense way as you joined him and Murphy in the briefing room.

Increíblemente, the up aboves had put these two pendejos in charge of the operation.

“Hola amor,” Peña lilted at you with a smirk from his seat across from you, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You glared at him. “What the fu-.”

“You’re married.” Murphy tossed the manila envelope on the table in your direction, interrupting your outburst.

He knew you and Peña got on each others’ nerves. This was his way of avoiding the inevitable bickering. It was a shitty way of doing so though.

You cursed under your breath as you fell into a chair and swept the envelope open.

The other two were quiet as your eyes scanned the documents.

“Fuck no.” You pushed the papers containing your’s and Peña’s aliases back at them.

Señor y Señora Villalobos. Dealers disguised as diamond salespeople. Married. _To each other._

“Told you.” Peña told Murphy, his tone all-knowing.

“Cállate,” you snarled at Peña.

“You first,” he glared back.

“Hey,” Murphy exclaimed. He rested the tip of his index finger on the files and glared at you both now.

“This isn’t a request. These are orders.” He rubbed at his mustache and this time directed his gaze at you. “You either follow the mission or find another job.”

You glared from him to Peña who didn’t meet your gaze, too busy staring at a point on the table.

You threw your hands up in defeat, reached across and snatched the folder then huffed out of the room, muttering all the while. “Estos tontos Americanos vienen a mi país y piensen que tengo miedo de ellos, malparidos…”

Murphy looked from your retreating figure to Peña who was watching you walk away with amusement in his eyes. “What was that? What did she say?”

“She’ll do it,” Peña said, smirking. He stood and picked up his own file. “And learn Spanish while I’m gone, cabrón.”

Peña rapped Steve on the arm with the file affectionately and then he was gone.

Steve rubbed his face again, tiredly, worried that given the short fuses of both you and Peña, the DEA was making a huge mistake.

*****

“¡Apúúúúúúrateeee!” You dragged the word out, tapping your foot impatiently against the brake.

You were in an agency assigned car waiting around the corner from Peña’s flat for the pendejo to come outside so you could start the long drive to Cali.

_Finally._

He threw his bag into the backseat then slid onto the passenger’s seat.

“Amor,” he greeted you with a sardonic smile as he slipped his sunglasses on.

“¿Y por qué tardaste tanto?” You ignored the stupid nickname he was no doubt using to taunt you in order to ask him what had taken him so long.

“I couldn’t find the rings.” He held up a shiny golden wedding band, and you saw a matching one already around his own finger.

For a beat you merely glared at the ring as if all of this was its fault, then you were taking it and roughly sliding it onto your own finger.

“Careful,” Peña said as he inclined his seat so he could sleep. “Keep being so charming and all the narcos are going to want to marry you.”

You revved the engine and took off jerkily, turning the volume of the radio up to drown him out.

The trip was a long one. Peña kept turning down the radio while you drove so he could sleep, and you kept changing the station while he was driving. You argued over where to eat and what temperature to keep the air at or whether to open the windows.

“We’re supposed to be married, not divorced,” he’d quipped at you once after you’d knocked his hand out of the way of your water bottle as you reached for it.

You turned the heater up then, knowing it would bother him, even though you were already sweltering. He left it though, too stubborn to engage you at your game.

Until you opened your window. Then he was slamming the shut off button for the heater.

You glared at him…then- A mansion outside his window caught your eye. You watched it whiz past.

“What?” He slowed and turned the radio volume down.

“You passed it.” You sat back in your seat. “Coño.” You muttered under your breath.

He pulled the car over. When he let the car idle instead of turning around, you looked at him to see him already watching you, sunglasses off.

“What?”

“This is it. One wrong move and we’re both dead.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You glared fiercely his way. “Are you reminding me how to do my job, Peña?”

He sighed. “Just- I know we don’t get along, but this weekend, we don’t have a choice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Look just because you swooped in from the grand US of A to save all us heathens,” you fluttered your hands mockingly, “doesn’t mean I need you to remind me of my job. _I’ve_ been doing this for longer. If anyone in this car understands what’s at stake, it’s _me_.” You finished, angry.

“That why you hate me so much?” He asked thoughtfully in a tone so soft you had to look at his face to discern his intent for asking.

He wasn’t glaring anymore. If anything, he seemed curious.

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered but your tone belied your words.

He chuckled. “That’s a good start.” He started turning the car around. “Amor.” He added and suddenly you were fuming again.

*****

The introductions with the narcos and their wives went well enough, better even than you’d hoped. They accepted you as one of their own. It wasn’t hard for you to fit in, you were Colombiana to the bone. Peña on the other hand… But he’d sold it well. Almost too well. This has been your first opportunity at seeing how much he’d picked up during his time in Colombia so far. And it seemed like he’d picked up a lot.

Peña hadn’t been wrong when he’d indicated some of the narcos would take an interest in you. They greeted you both warmly, but their hands enveloped yours tightly and their eyes lingered just a moment too long. You thought Peña must have noticed too, and surely he worried that allowing such blatant flirting would endanger your cover.

That must have been why you suddenly felt his arm encircling your bare shoulders. You tried not to tense in surprise, so much so that you let yourself relax against him in a natural manner. He continued the pretense, kissing your forehead as he made a joke with the narcos about keeping the wife happy.

Inside you were having a crisis though and you hoped the look on your face was one caught between amused and loving. A shock had gone through you when Peña’s lips had met your skin. His act was so convincing; how was he so good at this?

You thought back to the first stop you’d made earlier on in the car drive. When you’d gotten out of the car, Peña had whistled softly upon seeing your sundress, warming your cheeks and angering you simultaneously. But he’d said nothing else. And you’d thought on it during the ensuing drive. Normally you wore suits to the office, pants and skirts, but suits all the same. And you’d made a point of never going out with Peña or Murphy. So he’d never seen you in anything else. Against your will, you wondered what the whistle had meant. Not that you cared, but you didn’t need to add one more thing to the long list of things you already had to think about.

You smothered the thoughts. They were distracting and unnecessary and right now you were lucky that Peña was so good at this because he was carrying you both.

As you trailed the narcos out back to sit and have drinks by the pool, you slipped your arm around his waist, needing to carry your weight in the farce not wanting to have to hear later from Peña about what you should have done.

“Así,” you heard him murmur approvingly.

You dug your nails into his side and heard him grunt in pain.

Your smile then at the wife of one of the narcos holding out a drink for you was genuine.

You spent an hour bantering back and forth with the other couples.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think Peña was happily married in his private life. He played the part perfectamente.

As you were both sitting at the poolside table, he would reach over absently and take your fingers in his. The first time a jolt went through you again. But you took the cue. You alternated touches. You would rest your hand on his thigh. You swore he jumped the first time you did that, but he hid it well. He took long draws from your glass. Once he even fed you an olive. If you didn’t know any better, he was enjoying torturing you. He knew you _hated_ olives. But the gesture drew laughs from the men and awwws from the women. It was then you noticed how they were swooning over Peña. It made you mad only because you realized that if the pinche idioto was in the position to do it, he’d sleep with all their wives.

Finally and blessedly, your hosts suggested that you two retire to your room before dinner. Peña was to join the other men in Pacho’s office just before dinner for a talk. You assumed that was when any useful information would be recovered. You realized then that you were here more for decoration than anything.

You fumed as you let Peña lead you by the hand up the mansion’s grand staircase. You both followed the housekeeper who led you to your room.

You dropped Peña’s hand the second the door closed behind you. He gave you a look but then the two of you were scouring the room, searching for any hidden recording devices. You shook your head at him, but he put his finger to his lips and tilted his head toward the bathroom. You raised your hands questioningly but followed him all the same.

He was reaching into the shower and turning it on full blast.

“¿Qué haces?” You hissed at his ear, having to get close to be heard.

“We don’t know for sure it’s clear. We only talk freely like this.” He murmured into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You shivered involuntarily at the sensation.

You both established that your cover had been bought. And what most likely awaited him at the meeting. You left him to take a shower and went to lounge on the bed.

Several minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened releasing a wall of steam and-

You sat up, glaring, “What are you doing?”

Peña put a finger to his lips furiously. “Adonde está mi bolsa, amor?” His sweet tone was a direct contradiction to the furrow in his brow. He shook his head at you, gesturing to his suitcase as if to ask how you expected him to get dressed without clothes.

“Allí, corazón.” You said for show, just in case, glaring at him as he took his time going through his bag to find an outfit. Your eyes tried not to linger on his bare skin and the way water from the shower trickled down his toned back.

You averted your eyes when he turned back, but he was smiling as if he knew you’d been watching him, so you flipped over on the bed to face the other direction.

When Peña left the room with the sound of a fake kiss, you were too nervous to sit still. You had to get ready for dinner anyway. But you were anxious all the same. Your cover could be blown at any second. You stored a handgun under the bathroom sink before getting into the shower and kept an ear out for any strange noises. But nothing happened. You dressed and put your perfume and makeup on. Still Peña was absent. You slid a smaller gun into the holster on your inner thigh and went to join the other wives wherever they were.

They turned out to be in the bar off the kitchen. Luckily already tipsy and talkative. They handed you a drink, but you took only tiny sips as you engaged them in conversation. You struck gold when one of them brought up Tata, Escobar’s wife. They were gossiping over who had a better kitchen. You hung onto every word while providing input as shallowly as possible. Apparently your and Peña’s kitchen was inlaid with marble and dark hickory wood.

Nothing they said gave up the location of the Escobars though and the subject soon turned to jewelry, at which point the women fawned over the diamond necklace provided to you by the agency. Which was your cue to try to sell them diamonds.

Soon enough the staff came in to lead you all to the formal dining room where the men were waiting. They all stood but it was Peña’s face you were focused on.

His lips parted when he saw you and his brow smoothed over. His eyes traveled from yours down along your entire figure. You couldn’t help but get the slightest bit flustered. You avoided his gaze, but he was coming your way to take your hand and lead you over to the seat next to his. It was strange. Surrounded as you both were by actual enemies, it felt like you were the only two in the room. It confused you and irritated you, but you managed to catch your breath again once you were seated at the dinner table. You ignored Peña’s dark eyes on you and took a long sip from your wine glass, trying to focus on the mission at hand.

“Not too much,” you heard him whisper as you placed the wine glass back down.

And there he was.

Underneath the table, you adjusted your feet, “accidentally” stepping deliberately on his shoe with one sharp heel.

The curse he muttered in pain under his breath had you smiling as you dove into the conversation, ready to take on a room full of the people who had played the bad guys in your life for so long.


	2. Chapter Two

“Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Nothing. Both your hands were flattened to represent paper.

“What?” You growled up at Peña. 

He’d laughed when you’d recited the words of the game. There was mirth in his eyes as you glared at him. 

“Nothing,” he said defensively, raising his hands. “I’m just not used to playing games at work.”

"Not in my experience.” You shot back bitterly. The shower ran loudly behind you, and the steam was starting to make it stuffy and hot.

He chuckled and you found yourself tensing again. “Tranquila. You can have the bed.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” Your voice came out more challenging than you'd meant it to. 

“Because it’s hot in here, I’m tired and you’re cranky.” Peña smirked.

“I am not,” you poked him sharply in the chest, “cranky.” He swiped at his chest, brushing your hand aside.

“Fine,” you scoffed. “I’ll just enjoy that super comfortable bed the entire time we’re here.”

You heard the bite in his voice when he spoke. “Not as much as I’m already enjoying this.” 

******

The next morning was eventful. You found yourself tired, having been unable to sleep due to what you blamed on Peña’s incessant tossing and turning. In reality, you were slightly terrified. You were spending the night in the home of people who would want you dead if they knew your true identity. Which was why you hated to admit, even to yourself, that Peña’s stupid presence on the sofa between you and the door was the small comfort that had helped you fall asleep.

Breakfast was crowded and loud on your hosts’ back patio. They seemed to drink at all times, and you took small sips of the champagne you were provided, smiling prettily all the while, trying to ignore how much you hated Peña’s hand on your knee.

Then it was time for the women to go horseback riding. The men would be drinking beers, playing tejo and discussing business. Yalitza informed you that you had at least an hour to get ready, but you weren’t even sure you’d brought anything appropriate to wear for the occasion. The other wives had decided on the activity on a whim.

You waited on the staircase for Peña to join you. The other men had pulled him aside in the kitchen and you could hear leering and laughing. When he finally made his way towards you, Peña looked unhappy, and it set your heart to racing.

But you stayed silent, smiled warmly, and took his hand. You dropped it almost roughly once safe within the room again. You opened your mouth to speak but suddenly Peña’s calloused finger was at your lips. You jerked your head away and glared at him fiercely. He glared back, then was pulling you to the bathroom. You let him for the sake of speed but shouldered out of his grasp as soon as you passed through the door.

“Stop grabbing me,” you hissed viciously as he turned on the shower, but he ignored you and the look on his face was concerning.

He looked unsure of himself, as if he didn’t want to say what he’d dragged you in here for.

“What?!” You hissed, trying not to be louder than the shower water as it splashed loudly against the tile.

“We should, uh….” He rubbed absently at his forehead with the back of his hand. “We need to start making noises in here...well, in there.” He pointed at the bedroom.

You looked up at him as if he was crazy, which clearly he was. “You’re the one who said we’re only clear to talk in here, Peña.” You said the words slowly as if he was stupid.

He seemed to be losing his patience. His hand dropped from his face. “Sex.” He said now as if you were stupid.

“What?” You were thrown and you looked blankly up at him.

“They’re starting to ask me why they never hear us fucking.”

Now you were dumbfounded. It took you a couple beats before you could speak, your mouth dry. “So tell them I’m on my period.”

He didn’t react, didn’t blink. His gaze was stern, straightforward.

You lost your temper. “I’m not going to mimic getting _fucked_ by you.” You said the word in disgust, as if you couldn’t fathom the thought, which, quite frankly, you couldn’t.

“You will,” he glared back, taking a step toward you so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice.

He was really testing you. And the worst part was you were failing in all the worst ways. Murphy had been right about one thing. The narcos weren’t going to get you; the two of you were going to end up killing each other first.

Without thought, you lifted your hands and shoved him in the chest. Hard. “Back off, Peña.”

He took you by surprise and caught your hand where it landed and pushed back. You snarled and shoved at him again. Then, with a low growl, he was pushing you back and pinning you against the glass of the shower door. You let out a loud groan that from anyone’s else’s perspective given the context would have sounded nothing but sexual. His hand flexed against you where he held you just below your neck.

You glared at him and he glared right back. “Así.” He whispered, his voice rough. Then he was letting out his own loud groan. It caught you so off guard that you were left gaping up at him.  
Something deep in your core reacted instantaneously to the sound. Which only made you angrier. You scrambled at his hand with your nails and pushed against him, but he was ready and suddenly you were pinned up against the glass completely by his body. You let out a loud if pained moan when your shoulder blades hit the glass again.

Peña’s eyes were dark with anger, but you were sure he could see the hate reflected right back in yours. But not because he was wrong. He was very right. There was no point in risking your cover for something as trivial as this; you were both adults. This should have been easy. But as he let out another feigned amorous groan that sent your stomach airborne, you knew with certainty that you would rather be undercover with anyone else in the world right now. Including Pablo fucking Escobar.

******

Later, you were still fuming. You’d attempted the horseback riding with the wives and only failed because the horses all kept getting spooked at the explosions that would sound every time a tejo disc would hit their targeted tablas. Although the men were gathered far across the property from the stables, the horses wouldn’t calm. So the wives had given up and gathered back at the bar in the home to chug glass after glass of wine. You’d finally gotten away when the chefs had announced they were preparing dinner under the pretense of getting ready.

You hadn’t seen Pena since earlier. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, chin in your hands, you glared at the door, just waiting for the focus of your ire to return. And trying not to think on the events from earlier and all the embarrassing noises you’d made in front of the person you could least stand. 

He was still with Pacho and the others. No doubt bragging about the fake sex you’d never had. He made you so mad, you could kill him. You were seriously considering a request of transfer when - _if_ \- you ever got out of this mess when suddenly the door opened.

Peña was bantering with someone on just the other side of the door.

“Hasta luego,” he spoke jovially before shutting and locking the door. He stood there, seeming unwilling to look at you though you refused to look away.

“Entonces?” You pressed, forgetting yourself. 

Peña glared daggers at you before heading your way. But you realized his intent and skipped off the bed and into the bathroom before he could drag you in there again. You had the shower running before he shut the bathroom door.

You turned and was startled to find Peña’s face within inches of yours. But he didn’t scare you. “Did you have fun bragging about all the sex we never had, malparido?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hands going reflexively to his hips as he studied your face almost thoughtfully.

“I didn’t brag about anything,” he started carefully. 

You blinked. “I thought the point was for them to know we were-”

“I told them to shut up about my wife when they brought it up.” He interrupted you. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. It was a blow to the gut in more ways than one. Even though you were not truly his wife, he’d been protective of your privacy. That was confusing, especially given how mad you still were at him. So you focused your anger on the ways in which what he had done could be dangerous.

“You did what?” You reached instinctively for the gun you’d stowed under the sink, sure the men would be blasting into the room with their own guns any second now.

Peña stopped your hand with his, but not roughly. Still, unused to the contact with him when not under the gaze of the narcos, you jerked your hand away. 

“It’s what I would have done if this was all real.” Peña spoke softly now. “They didn’t take issue with it.”

 _If this was all real_. Your ears caught on those five words, wondering at the fact that he’d wondered about it at all. It took you another moment to respond. “I can’t believe they didn’t kill you.”

“As far as they know, I’m one of them,” Peña retorted. “Why would they?”

“Still,” you didn’t know precisely why you were arguing, other than that it was hard to admit when Peña was right. Even when he _was_. “You shouldn’t risk our cover like that.”

Peña’s jaw tightened, and you could almost hear him grinding his teeth together. “I didn’t.” Was all he said, but it was cold and tense. You weren’t sure how the two of you were supposed to pretend to be happily married for another five days.

*****

You almost made it through dinner. Almost.

Until esa estúpida pendeja, Alma, had to open her mouth, insisting she just had to know how Peña had proposed to you. You’d prepared no backstory for this, sure not one drug dealer or his wife would want to know something so trivial. In his thoroughness, Murphy had provided a backstory, but not even he had been so intricate.

You were smiling sweetly as you opened your mouth to bullshit your way through this when-

Peña’s warm, large hand covered yours on the table, and instinctively you threaded your fingers through his. You looked at him to see him smiling sideways at you, his face arranged in a way you never would have believed his face could be... Loving? Enamored?

“Pues,” he began, and even his voice was affected by whatever act he was putting on and something in his tone of voice made your throat tighten. “We were at Monserrate above Bogotá, her favorite place.” Here, he squeezed your hand. And you wondered just how the hell he knew what your favorite place in Bogotá was, or whether it was some embellishment he’d made up on the spot. 

“She wasn’t doing anything special.” Here, Peña laughed charmingly, looking at you from under half-lidded eyes. You could hear the murmurs of the wives as they admired your stupid DEA partner. “Just browsing wares in the square. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her.” He couldn’t seem to do so now, and though you knew it was for show, you found it hard to tear your gaze away. Somehow, his lies had you both flustered and emotional.

“I couldn’t wait any longer, I had to know she would be mine.” His eyes never left yours. “So I led her over to the mountainside where she could see the city she loves so much, got down on one knee and told her how much I loved her. Told her I couldn’t go one more day without knowing she would spend the rest of her life with me.” Peña raised his hand, the one still holding yours, up to cradle your face. You’d been staring at him with something akin to awe the entire time, but you prayed it passed for lovestruck rather than surprised.

The men laughed as if they were somewhat embarrassed. But the women let out an assortment of high-pitched exclamations and admirations. 

Before you could stop him, Peña was leaning over and kissing you full on the lips. You had no choice but to smile and return the kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft; his mustache tickled your lip slightly, but there was something appealing about his kiss being equal parts soft and rough. More than anything, you never would’ve expected someone like Peña to have a kiss so gentle and sweet. But, you supposed, you’d never thought about it before. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized there were tears in each corner of your eyes, from the words he’d been saying.

After he pulled away, you tried to wipe the tears away without Peña seeing you, but he noted the movement. Even played along in the moment and used his thumb to rub the moistness away, making the women break into another chorus of awwws.

Later, as you bid the wives good night and waited for Peña to join you at the bottom of the stairs, you overheard two of the wives, Sharon y Paloma, the ones who spoke to you the least.

“No es posible que sean tan perfectos.” Sharon was sure your relationship couldn’t be as perfect as it seemed.

“No,” Paloma agreed. “No doubt he’s hiding something from her. Like another woman.”

“Shame,” Sharon giggled, “I wouldn’t have minded being the other woman.” Their laughter and voices trailed off as they headed back towards the kitchen, and you were sure they hadn’t seen you.

Peña appeared finally in the hallway, and there was something soft about his eyes you couldn’t shake. Again, hand-in-hand, you ascended the stairs. This time, it wasn’t such an effort to hold his hand.

You even forgot to drop his hand until you were both safe in the bathroom, the shower on.

“That was some fast thinking,” you provided almost as praise.

There was something like disappointment or doubt on his face, but you attributed it to the late night. “Thanks,” he said finally. “You too. They bought those tears almost more than my story.”

Here you had to drop your gaze lest he realize the tears had been real, though you could not for the life of you explain where they had come from.

You both quickly covered the progress neither of you had made, but only because it was hard to redirect conversations with the men and their wives without garnering suspicion. Everyone was tight-lipped about Escobar. But this mission was never going to be easy.

You were short with Peña otherwise, ignoring him as you prepared for bed before slipping under the covers, no discussion of whether he would take the bed or you. But he made no move to argue. You followed his shirtless form with your eyes as he wandered over to the sofa and lay down without complaint.

“Good night.” You nearly cursed yourself out loud. The words had slipped through your lips completely unbidden.

Peña seemed as surprised as you. He actually sat up to look your way in the near darkness, the only light spilling from the one you’d left on in the bathroom. “Night.” He finally grunted back before flipping over to face the long end of the sofa.

Your face burned. You’d never felt stupider.

You woke up at some point in the night but didn’t move, sure you’d heard someone rustling in the dark. But you relaxed when you realized it was only Peña. Until- You tensed up again but remained completely silent as your ears worked out what they were hearing.

Shortness of breath, nearly silent gasps and the faint sound of skin rubbing against skin. Your body lit up unexpectedly and you found yourself holding your breath as you realized Peña was getting himself off. A warmth pooled in your core, a warmth that was replicated in your face and neck when you finally consciously realized that the sound of Peña jerking himself off was arousing you in turn. Involuntarily, of course.

You contemplated moving, so he would stop, almost too embarrassed to continue listening. But as his movements grew faster, his breaths sharper, less controlled, you found yourself holding your breath, waiting… Then- One uninhibited gasp and you heard him still, heard his out of sync breathing. You realized that as his breaths normalized, yours were growing shorter. 

You’d never been more furious or felt more betrayed by your own body. You heard more rustling; you were sure Peña had sat up to look your way. You tried to lay as still as humanly possible, hoping that it wasn’t unnaturally still and that he wouldn’t guess you’d been lying awake listening.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, when you finally heard the return of his soft breathing, indicating he’d lost consciousness again, likely helped by his release.

You huffed as quietly as you could, still feeling flustered. You couldn’t get the sounds of Peña out of your head, and the warmth between your legs would not go away. You tried turning one way, then another. But nothing would do. Finally, you realized there was nothing for it. Only one thing would do.

You sat up slightly, and surveyed his form. A tiny sliver of moonlight illuminated Peña’s face, ran across his thick eyebrows, his curved nose, his plush lips. Satisfied he was asleep, you lay back down and took a deep breath before- Your hand snaked its way down, beneath your pajama bottoms until-

You let out a tiny breath of air, too weak to be a gasp. You were already so wet down there. Just hearing Peña’s noises, listening to him masturbating, had worked you up so that you were already slick. You dragged your finger and the wetness along your clit, drawing in a sharp breath. Then you were running your third finger down along your slit before sinking it into your center.

You let out another ragged breath, before beginning to pump your finger in and out, curling it at just the right angle so it ran along the bundle of nerves that were sure to bring you completion. Your index finger joined your third, filling you in the way you hadn’t been filled for months now. 

You tried to keep your mind blank, but unbidden, Peña’s earlier performance kept creeping its way into your brain. Every time you accidentally replayed the noises he’d been making, you felt yourself clamp around your fingers, felt your clit pulse with pleasure, all automatic responses. It seemed that the more you tried to keep your mind blank, the more it provided sensory material...Peña out of breath...Peña’s short grunts...Peña’s gasps of pleasure. _There_. 

With a gasp you meant to keep low, you found yourself seizing up around your own fingers, your back arching as you rode your own fingers to completion. It was Peña’s face you saw behind your eyes. It was his lips on yours earlier that you felt. It was the sexual groans he’d faked in the bathroom earlier that you heard. The memories only heightened your climax, and you found yourself gasping once more as you dropped flat on the mattress, your walls still seizing up around your fingers. Your pussy pulsed with pleasure as you withdrew your fingers with a soft squelch. You tried to catch your breath as you stared up at the ceiling.

What the fuck was happening and why was Javier fucking Pena suddenly making an appearance in your orgasm?

You mean, _making_ your orgasm, your brain threw at you.

You groaned in frustration at yourself and buried your head under your pillow, willing yourself to stop just whatever nonsense it was you seemed to be starting up.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as you and Javi attempt to navigate the dangerous world of the narcos while trying to act like one of them and balance the way things seem to also be heating up between the two of you.

“They want to go swimming.” Peña’s voice was tense. He’d hoped to use today to get the men, any one of the men, to reveal information about Escobar. Instead, all he’d learned from getting up too early and going downstairs was that it was sábado, which apparently meant “hay que trabajar para vivir y no vivir para trabajar” as reiterated by Pacho.

“The pool?” You were distraught. You’d brought a bikini just in case, but the thought of going swimming terrified you, chiefly because you didn’t know how. It was your greatest shortcoming as an agent. Not that you’d ever admit that to Peña. So you dutifully donned your bathing suit beneath a robe and followed him gingerly down the back stairs to the pool patio. Peña took your hand almost carefully as he guided you out the door.

“¡Y aquí están!” Pacho was pouring generous amounts of champagne into two glasses before he was shoving one into your hand and another into Peña’s.

You surveyed the scene. Yalitza y Alma, along with their husbands, were already waist deep in the water. You wondered if you could get away with sunbathing like Sharon and Paloma were on the deck’s lounge chairs just beside the pool. But Peña dashed that hope when he began slipping the robe off you. You noted he was standing between you and the other men, almost as if a shield. 

Despite your overall irritation with him, you glanced at him, meaning to convey thanks. But his eyes were surveying you as if he’d never seen you before, and it made your body flush with heat. You felt both angry and…thoughts of the night before arrived unbidden and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. He recovered quickly, removing his shirt and then taking your hand to lead you to the pool, greeting the others loudly and jovially.

The water was warm and pleasant as it covered first your feet, then your calves, next your waist. You hoped to stop there, too fearful to continue, but Peña was leading you further in towards the deep end. Your hand flew up to grip his bicep tightly and he turned to face you, the momentum of moving in the water carrying you into his chest. His arm draped around your waist almost naturally. Immediately goosebumps covered your skin all over where his was making contact. You’d never been this close to the object of your ire while wearing so little. 

His arm around you, he stared down at you, a question in his eyes when it was clear you were terrified. Understanding blossomed in his eyes but then-

“Ven acá ya, tortolitos.” Hector shouted across from the pool, holding up two beers that were clearly also for you.

Peña was always quick on his feet much as you were loathe to admit it. “Un minuto. Es que mi chiquitita ni sabe como nadar.” His little one didn’t know how to swim? In the sickliest sweet tone he could’ve possibly used. You were absolutely going to murder him later. But you didn’t have a chance to glare at him because then he was turning in the water while hooking your arms around his neck and pulling your legs up to straddle his back.

You held in a startled gasp when he began cutting through the water using graceful strokes to cross the pool. Your arms tightened around him, plastering your chest to his bare back. Fear kept your limbs frozen around him. But the movements were almost enjoyable; Peña glided through the water as if he’d been born in it. He reached the far wall just next to Hector and Yalitza with whom he began bantering about your inability to swim. You smiled self deprecatingly as you clutched the pool wall. While you relaxed your hold on Peña, you kept a steady grip on his shoulder. 

Time flew by almost pleasantly; were it not for the deadly mission you could not forget you were on, it could have almost passed for a peaceful summer evening. Peña, in keeping with the charade, eventually encircled your waist with his arm and pulled you to him, so he was holding you aloft, allowing you a free hand. He handed you his beer and without thinking twice you took a swig from his same bottle. He was talking animatedly with the other couple, but his eyes were on you, curious and…there was something dark about them as he held you against him. And your mind couldn’t help but wander once more to the night before. 

You looked down at the water of the pool to avoid his gaze lest you give anything away, but that was a mistake because the dizzying depths of the pool beneath you only made you lunge for the pool wall, but Peña caught your hand and pulled it up around his neck. He made everything accidental seem so natural. To everyone else, it would have looked as if you’d gone to embrace him instead of your fearful slip up. Either way the gesture brought you closer to the man you’d been so sure you loathed. Now, your scantily clad body pressed up against his, lust left little room for hate within you.

“Deberías enseñarle,” Hector finally suggested, demonstrating with Yaltiza just how Peña should teach you.

They were floating away off across the water, and Peña glanced down at you where you hovered close to his chest. “No,” you whispered before the question could even enter his eyes.

Annoyed impatience flashed behind his gaze. “Lo harás.” Both a warning and a command.

And suddenly the reason for all your bickering and clashing over the last couple of years made sense. Neither of you could stand to be told what to do by the other and neither could stand to be told no when it came to work. But despite the stubbornness in the clench of your jaw, you knew this was a fight you weren’t going to win. Not with the stakes surrounding you and how one wrong move could end everything.

Trembling, you let him pull away, and before you could reach for the wall, he was flipping you onto your back. You couldn’t help the slight shriek that left you at the sensation, and you heard the laughs of the narcos, but couldn’t find it in you to care because you were sure you were going to die. But Peña stopped your thrashing and soothed you with words, his hands at your lower back, holding you up. You almost stilled in shock when you realized you weren’t going to sink, and you weren’t going to drown. Peña was holding you up and _this_ \- this was floating. As you stared at the blue sky above, dotted with clouds, you wondered that you’d never done this before.

You tensed when Peña moved from your waist to your head, but his hands remained beneath you. “No te dejaré hundir,” his voice told you without a hint of the dryness usually directed at you. He wouldn’t let you sink. You pondered the words as you stared up at him. No, you didn’t think he would.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Later, you sat in your robe between Peña’s legs on one of the lounge chairs. There were only so many after all and they’d all been taken by the time Peña had pulled you out of the pool. You’d enjoyed yourself more than you’d ever admit to Peña. He was the first person who’d ever taken the time to show you how to swim, a skill most people took for granted. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much fun. Which was something to reflect on in itself considering the circumstances; clearly you needed to get out more. As you shifted between Pena’s legs, you wondered again about him, and the way he seemed so different lately. Out here in the country, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, and how he was so incredibly good at it.

Every time you inadvertently shifted, Peña would clear his throat or make a sudden movement. Finally, this last time, he hissed “stop” in your ear and you startled, wondering what was wrong…which was when you felt his- _him_ hard against your back. Before you could stop him, he was getting up from the chair and excusing himself to use the bathroom. Your entire body flushed warm at the thought of what you’d done to him, though you hadn’t even realized you’d been doing anything.

You continued the conversation with Yalitza about the weather and the temperature and whether you’d all ever be able to go horseback riding. She launched herself out of her chair suddenly to go refill both your drinks. Then, out of nowhere, Mario, one of the unmarried sicarios was taking her place in the chair across from you. Everyone else, submerged in their conversations as they were, took no notice.

A leery smile crossed Mario’s face as you smiled amiably his way. “¿Que tal, parce?” You asked cautiously.

“Dígame tu,” he leered somehow even more as he reached a hand across to slip your robe down your shoulder. “Te ves linda en ese bikini, chica.” His voice was dripping with something that made your skin crawl. You weren’t sure you could be outright rude or disrespectful…

But then his hand was going to your face where he began stroking your cheek. “¿Por qué no vienes conmigo, muñeca? Puedo hacerte sentirte muy bien.” An invitation to go with him, that he could make you feel good. Your instinct was to punch him in the throat, but before you could make up your mind about what to do, another hand was slapping away Mario’s.

You looked up in both shock and relief to see Peña. “¿Y qué crees que haces?” Spoken with pure venom and emphasized with another stinging slap to Mario’s head. 

You watched in slow motion as Peña swiveled to stand between you and Mario who was shooting to his feet, arms raised offensively.

The rest of the party only just seemed to be realizing what was happening. “Mario.” A voice barked. “Ya estoy harto de ti, malparido. ¡Déja la muchacha y vete ya de mi vista!” Pacho was sick of Mario’s antics and wanted him out of his sight, which told you Mario had done this before.

Peña could have let it go. Should have let Pacho’s voice be the last on the matter. You knew he wasn’t truly defending your honor, so you didn’t know why he didn’t just drop it. “No volverás a tocarla.” His voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, threatening and menacing as he warned Mario to never touch you again.

A quiet went up among everyone present. Mario, who hadn’t moved, looked your way, malice flashing in his eyes. Then he spit on the floor at Peña’s feet before spinning around and stalking away in the direction of the barn.

Pacho approached, Yalitza at his side looking scandalized, but Peña ignored them both to turn to you. He crouched in front of your knees and reached forward to adjust your robe, tying the belt snugly enough so it would not slip again. 

“You alright?” He whispered too low for anyone but you to hear, his hand hesitating near your collarbone. You nodded almost indiscernibly. You tried to catch his eye, to warn him, worried he might have taken it too far, but he seemed to be avoiding looking directly at you.

But Pacho was apologetic, offering Peña a beer he’d gotten for himself while indicating they always had trouble controlling Mario, especially around unwilling women, and that if Mario did it again, he’d shoot Mario himself. Peña’s jaw was clenched tight, so you knew he was still angry but couldn’t understand why for the life of you. It hadn’t been a big deal. It’s not like you were really his wife. He took a seat next to you on the lounge chair and wrapped a protective arm around your waist while making small talk with Pacho and Yaltiza. 

More than once your eyes landed on Sharon and Paloma who were whispering across the way, their eyes finding you and Peña more than once. You didn’t like the way they seemed up to something.

Soon when it was clear everyone was getting tired of being outside, Peña draped his towel around your shoulders and excused you both. This time, in the bathroom, you’d meant to keep your cool with Peña. You really had. He had, after all, only been protecting you, you supposed. But when you asked him why he’d gotten so aggressive, he rounded on you.

“Did you want that fucking guy touching you?”

You were taken aback at the fury in his face. Clearly he was still bothered by whatever it was that had been bothering him when he found Mario harassing you. 

“Of course not,” you bit back, bewildered he would even think that. Absently you’d wandered closer to him, whether to avoid being heard or out of pure aggression, you weren’t sure. Peña’s breath was uneven, and his eyes were boring hard into yours. The air surrounding you both seemed to change, charged with the heat from the running shower.

Your stared each other down and somewhere between the jagged breaths and crooked scowls, something changed. Involuntarily your eyes dropped to study his lips when his tongue poked out to lick them. You felt your face go hot but when you glared up at him again, you found his eyes trained on your lips now. Your gaze met his, and you both made a move; later you couldn’t say if it was to get closer to each other or further apart. But it didn’t matter. Because a knock at the bedroom door had you both skittering away from each other as if you’d been burned.

Your heart started beating rapidly, and Peña seemed to guess at your worry. “It’s alright,” he assuaged you, “it’s probably nothing.” He spoke as he walked back into the bedroom but you noted the way he closed the bathroom door behind him almost entirely. You peeked through the crack to watch him open the door and speak to a housekeeper. 

“It’s just lunch,” Peña reassured you again once he’d closed the door, suddenly looking too tired to argue. Or do anything really. “You shower first.” More a soft suggestion than a command so, cheeks still warm, you closed the door between you two.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Lunch was a cheery affair. Peña’s shower seemed to have returned him to normal, and you let him do most of the talking, trading sparse remarks with Alma about the delicacy of the dishes served. The rest of the evening was spent watching the men play fútbol; you’d finally discovered something Peña wasn’t good at, but he was a good sport about it. 

You had found Sharon and Paloma to be spiteful and unkind on top of being the wives of narcos. They made snide remarks about how you must have made advances on Mario, always out of Peña’s hearing. Yalitza finally shushed them, but you found yourself harboring a deep hate for the both of them. And if things went south, you thought you might make a point of taking them out even if it meant you went down too. 

The night grew unnaturally chilly as everyone smoked and drank on the patio off the dining room. The housekeepers lit torches at each corner but you were still shivering of cold.

“Aqui tienes, amor.” Peña said softly, sweetly, standing to remove his jacket and draping it over your shoulders before taking your hand in his and kissing it. Your belly flipped of its own accord and a fire burned deep within you, though it was not brought on by the tequila in your glass. Pacho had kept refilling your drinks and while you’d tried to take it easy, you knew both you and Peña were somewhat buzzed.

Across the table, Sharon, who had also been trembling and was clearly freezing, glared daggers at you after Peña’s gesture. Her husband sat, uncaring, beside her, no indication given he was going to do the same for her. You couldn’t help the victorious arch that came to your brow as you stared back and leaned into Peña’s shoulder. You knew you shouldn’t be antagonizing anyone, but you figured a little pettiness between the wives of narcos was as in character as you were going to get.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Just before you and Peña had departed to go to bed, Pacho had made a remark about the housekeepers coming around to all the rooms to light fires in the ornate fireplaces, given the sudden cold. You’d thought little of it then considering your slightly inebriated state, but the knock at the door that came later surprised you more than it should have. Peña glanced your way nervously; he’d been arranging a blanket on the sofa to sleep on. Then he was rushing to flip the blanket back onto the bed and sliding beneath the covers next to you, so little time was there to think.

“Entre,” Peña called, and so the housekeeper did but you were too focused on the sudden close proximity to a yet again shirtless Peña. He’d sidled close to you beneath the sheets and you found yourself holding your breath. Every nerve ending of yours was at attention, fire tinging your skin at every accidental brush from him.

The housekeeper greeted you both warmly and got to work on lighting the fire. You knew you were too stiff to look natural, but infuriatingly, Peña’s presence, irritating as it was, had been doing that to you lately. Peña must have noted your tense demeanor because he was suddenly pulling you to him and into his chest, placing a kiss loud enough to be heard on your forehead. 

You tried melting into him naturally but you were too hyperaware of his proximity, too focused on the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath your breasts. Unsure as you were, your hand slid up his chest to his shoulder so you could steady yourself. His bare skin was so warm. Peña’s hand ran up your back, leaving sparks in its wake. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until the housekeeper was backing out of the door and turning the lights off for you.

You were both frozen and you didn’t know if it was from the fear of getting caught in your farce or from the intensity that was clearly passing between you. You untangled yourself first. Peña folded the covers back to get up and return to the sofa. Before you could stop yourself, your hand flew out to grab his arm for what must have been the third time that day. He looked back at you quizzically. You racked your brain for the right thing to say to explain your action.

The only solution you found was to lean yet even further over to whisper into his ear, “Stay…just in case.”

His eyes were troubled as you lay back, watching you carefully. He barely moved his head as he nodded almost imperceptibly, but he relaxed more than you did. He was a careful foot or so away from you on the bed, and you noted every inch between you. But he seemed at ease. He reached down towards the foot of the bed and grabbed the blanket he’d been using on the sofa. You figured he was going to use that one but he kept yours draped over him and spread his blanket to cover you both, then settled down into his pillow, facing the ceiling.

The tension was thick, for you at least. You’d already been on your side facing him and you didn’t want to turn away, so you lay there, watching through fluttering eyelashes as Peña fell asleep, much more at ease than you. 

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

Javi woke up when someone jostled him gently. He was a light sleeper though you wouldn’t know it from his snores. For a moment, he was annoyed that you’d woken him up turning in your sleep. But then he heard the labored breathing, felt the feather soft movements to his left. Javi froze. Just as he had the night before when he’d heard you getting yourself off. He’d pretended to have been asleep last night, but he’d listened to every movement, every gasp, every cry and had found himself hard once more by the time it was clear you were finally asleep again.

This time, though, against his better judgment, you were inches away from him. And from the way it sounded, you were growing increasingly frustrated. You must have knocked into him with your elbow without realizing it in your ministrations. Javi held his breath, waiting just like the night before, for you to finish. He felt his cock growing stiff in his shorts.

He was growing delirious with want at the tiny moans and gasps you were making. Then, you said something that sent a shock from the base of his cock to the tip. “Fucking Peña, stupid fuckin- uhh.” You moaned again, quickening your pace. 

Javi couldn’t think for one long moment. You, who loathed him with every fiber of your being, were…thinking of him…as you…?

Surprise and longing both filled him, but he didn’t have long to think about it. You threw your head back on your pillow in frustration, obviously convinced he slept so deeply the movements wouldn’t wake him. You let out an exasperated sigh, your movements stilling, giving up on your release.

Javi spoke before he could stop himself, his voice hoarse from both sleep and desire. “I can help you with that.”

You froze completely now, your body stiffening in obvious horror.

“I can finish-“

“Shut- the fuck up.” You spoke through tightly gritted teeth. Javi watched you shut your eyes tight in humiliation.

He shifted up onto one elbow on his side, sidling closer, noting the way your breath hitched as he did so. “I’m just saying- I can help…”

“If you don’t shut up- I will shoot you.”

He hesitated only for a moment. Nah, you wouldn’t shoot him. Your breathing had sped up, and your body was taut under his gaze.

His hand ghosted over your arm where it rested against your belly, moist with the sweat accumulated from your wasted efforts. Your breath hitched and the way your hips bucked up lightly as his hand found its way towards your waistband told him everything he needed to know.

Still, he stilled just as his fingers found the top of your mound. “Is this alright?” He whispered.

You bit your lip, biting back the words that would make him stop. His hand was so big and warm. You didn’t speak but you nodded your head once, twice. He studied you a beat longer, then- his hand was sinking down- down- down-

You couldn’t stop the whimper that left your lips when his index finger found your tender nub, swollen and wet already with your own juices. He hissed when he felt you, wet and ready for his hand.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He couldn’t seem to help himself either. His voice seemed filled with devotion. The way he spoke, drunk with need, made your clit pulse under his attentive fingers. You let out another uninhibited moan. This was not the kind you could fake. But, you supposed, as an afterthought, that, considering the circumstances, it didn’t matter how loud you got.

Your hips were grinding up against his touch as he used your wet to make uneven circles over your sensitive flesh. You could feel his warm breath on the skin of your exposed belly as he leaned over you.

“Can I-“ He gestured further down your cunt with his third finger, sinking it further down into the depths between your lips.

Your hand, which had been clenching the sheet tightly, flew to grasp his arm. But- “Yes,” you moaned more than said. You couldn’t find it in you to look at him, but your eyes shot open of their own accord when his third and index finger sank down to your entrance. He was peeking up at you as he worked his hand and you grew flustered at the hungry look in his eye. 

You felt like you were having an out of body experience in more ways than one. This was DEA agent Javier Peña and he was- oh god, he was entering your cunt. His third finger sank in to the hilt and you let out a satisfied groan, your eyes involuntarily closing again, though you could not get the way he’d looked out of your mind. His hair, matted from sleep against his forehead in a charming, accidental way. His eyes burning up into yours. His mouth- his mouth…

He began pumping his finger delicately into you as if testing you. Your hips moved in sync with his movements and you no longer had control over your lips and the curses and moans and other noises passing between them. Your hips bucked reflexively when he stretched you with a second finger.

You cried out so loudly, you were sure someone in another room must have heard. Peña spoke again. “Fuck you’re so tight.” You felt him curl his fingers inside of you as he thrusted them in and out; you clapped a hand to your face, covering your mouth, afraid you’d gotten too loud. 

“Let me hear you, baby.” He was speaking into the skin at the juncture of your thigh and belly now. You could feel his lips moving over you, though he never fully kissed you. “You smell so fucking good.”

His fingers changed pace, plunged deeper now, and his large thumb had come back up to rub delicious circles over your clit. You tightened your grip on his arm, so your nails were digging into his skin again, though this time in unparalleled desire.

“Fuck,” you grunted, your hips jerking almost instinctively, meeting the thrusts of his fingers.

He could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Jesus,” you heard him gasp under his own breath, and the thought that he was obviously turned on by what was happening, by you, sent you over the edge.

“I’m going to- I’m-“ You gasped, your other hand scrabbling at his arm, spurring his movements, though he hadn’t let up his pace. You felt _his_ other hand grasp yours tightly, lacing his fingers between yours.

“You going to come, baby?” He asked, his voice sexier than you ever would have thought possible of Javier fucking Peña.

“Yes,” you couldn’t help rasping, your hand squeezing his as your orgasm built. His fingers curled in you at just the right angle and suddenly you were riding a wave of pleasure so intense you saw stars behind your eyelids. 

“Asi. Asi. Asi,” Peña kept repeating, talking you through your orgasm while clearly also holding himself back. You half sobbed as your body trembled and fell part around his fingers. Your arched back finally fell back to the bed, sweaty and exhausted.

“Fuck,” Peña repeated, desire still drowning any other tone out of his voice. He took his time pulling his fingers out. Your cunt was practically milking his fingers as he pulled them out, and he grunted as your walls clenched around him. When he pulled them out, he trailed them back up your lips, trailing them lightly over your clit. You gasped and grasped his hand again to stop him, the sensation too much. You pulled his hand up, only meaning to stop him.

But you looked down when he kept moving his hand. His eyes were glassy with desire. His fingers were motionless in the air somewhere between your cunt and his face. His eyes bore into yours as he brought his hand the rest of the way to his mouth and took his third and index finger between his lips, sucking your glistening juices off his own fingers. Your moan then was involuntary and your body jolted of its own accord, your cunt pulsing wildly. You closed your eyes tightly, hardly able to believe what had just happened. Did not know how you were going to face him again after this. You wondered wildly if it was the alcohol, consumed hours ago now, that had brought this on. But you knew it was purely the wants of your own body and the way you now seemed to fall apart in Peña’s presence.

You wondered if he expected you to return the favor but your body was boneless, melted into the mattress from his ministrations. You hadn’t had such an intense orgasm in a long time. But he answered the unspoken question for you. He pulled your shorts back up, your bunched up shirt down and tucked the blanket back up around your neck. Then he was settling into the bed, closer than before, but not at all suggestively.

“I’m- I- Should I-“ You didn’t know what to say now, your body still riding the aftershocks of what his fingers had done to you.

He seemed to guess your train of thought. You heard the grin in his words. “No te preocupes, chiquitita. I’ve got it.”

You couldn’t help the grin that came to your face at that. Now you were sure he’d heard you the night before, and he must have known you’d heard him too. Not that it mattered now. If you could face what had just happened…if being the operative word. You found yourself falling into the deepest, most peaceful sleep you’d had in a long while. Just as you drifted off, you felt fingers flex against yours. You flexed back, letting the pads of your fingers rest against his palm.


	4. Chapter Four

“Tranquilita, tranquilita.” On the other side of the stable, Peña was whispering soothingly to his horse who neighed nervously in response. Watching your own horse with intrepid eyes, you were anything but calm yourself.

There were a lot of things you either didn’t fear or could put your fear of easily aside. Shoot-outs. Narcos. Sharks. Even swimming. Etc. The prospect of going however many miles per hour on the back of a towering creature you weren’t sure wanted you on it was…well, terrifying. But you did your best not to let your fear show.

Peña, on the other hand, seemed right at home. He’d helped the establero saddle both his horse and yours and was now murmuring sweet nothings to his horse as he fed it apple slices.

You tried hard to swallow your fear as you stepped forward to mount the horse, knowing the rest of the party would be waiting outside. The establero reached a hand out to help you but then Peña was there.

“Lo tengo,” Peña murmured softly, slipping a discreet peso into the establero’s still outstretched hand.

Your eyes fell shyly to the floor now. You hadn’t been able to look Peña full in the face since the night before. You’d been short, almost rude, with him in private and falsely sweet around the others, almost perceptibly so.

You stiffened when he neared and to the departing establero, it must have looked like Peña was going in for a kiss. Instead, he whispered into your neck. His breath made you shiver almost deliciously.

“You okay?”

Despite your best efforts, he’d seen right through you. You’d have been frustrated with your inability to hide your true feelings from him if there wasn’t also something endearing about the fact that he’d been paying such close attention.

“Yes,” you whispered back, your voice hoarse from disuse and the nervousness he’d instilled by his closeness.

Satisfied, he nodded, and you felt the scruff of his jaw graze your cheek as he stepped back. You noticed now the goosebumps that had risen on your skin at his proximity.

Then he was holding the pommel of the saddle with one hand and taking your fingers with another to lead you up the small step ladder the establero had left for you. You swung one leg nervously over the horse, but it didn’t budge because it seemed as entranced with Peña’s petting and whispered words as you were.

He handed you the reins, not seeming to note the bewildered way you were staring at him. Where had he learned anything about horses?

“Just lead her, she’ll follow.” And his words were so reassuring that you actually believed the ride would be uneventful.

And it was. For awhile. You noticed how Peña stayed close to you. There were too many others around for any whispering, but he was always within arm’s reach.

And more than that, he was a natural. He looked better up on his horse than the rest of your party who sat their mounts stiffly in comparison. He and the horse seemed to share one brain. You didn’t miss the looks of admiration the women were throwing his way. Or the way Paloma tried to bait him into helping her figure out her horse’s reins. He walked her vocally through the process, never leaving your side as she must have wished he would.

At one point, your horse picked up speed when it had to trot over a small hill and you’d startled with a gasp. But in a flash, Peña had been there with a reassuring click to the horse and one long arm reaching over to haul the reins back gently. After that the horses walked side by side at Peña’s direction. It was comforting every time you felt the boot within his right stirrup graze yours.

Your heart was in your throat when the topic of conversation casually approached Escobar. But you feigned boredom and disinterest as the men talked. Still you felt eyes on you and hoped it was only your paranoia.

The men spoke as though they’d soon be seeing Escobar, Pacho even going so far as to suggest an introduction for Peña. A less seasoned agent might have jumped at the opportunity within the farce. But as you’d come to learn, Peña was strategic, calculatingly so. He injected his response with the perfect amount of both aloofness and interest until the topic devolved into Escobar’s potential interest in the jewels you and Peña were supposedly peddling.

A thin sheen of sweat broke out over your skin. You didn’t think Pacho was alluding to you and Peña meeting Escobar during this trip. After all, it was almost over. But just the possibility had you sweating. You’d neglected to mention to both Murphy and Peña that you’d seen Escobar with your own eyes before, and he you. You couldn’t risk running into him. Not here in this situation with Peña’s life at risk. You caught yourself at the thought then shook your head at yourself. Of course you cared about his life; he was your partner. But a nagging thought had begun to grow in the base of your skull. Luckily it was time to stop for whatever picnic had been planned.

Someone, one of Pacho’s hardworking housekeepers no doubt, had packed bundles of fresh food in various packs. You were grateful when Peña brought you an ice cool water instead of the wines everyone else had already begun to imbibe.

The jungle was humid and warm, far from the cool breezy way the morning had started. You held the water bottle to your chest and were sure Peña’s eyes followed a droplet that rolled from the bottle down between your breasts. Then he was turning to help Pacho lay out a large piece of fabric.

Soon, he was lounging carelessly on one corner of the sheet. He took you by surprise when he grabbed your arm and pulled you down to join him. You fell almost haphazardly into his lap. Panicked you adjusted the way you were sitting on him, ensuring that your dress fell below your knees.

You’d also neglected to tell Peña about the gun you’d strapped to your thigh. You really had to get better about confiding in him. But you’d been so paranoid in the morning when you’d realized the horseback ride would be happening about the prospect of being out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by enemies.

The movement, however, only brought you closer into Peña’s arms and you felt the hum in his chest as it did so. You shared sandwiches and berries, the latter which he fed to you sensuously one by one, his fingers always lingering at your lips, and you wondered if he was torturing you, considering he now knew what he did to your body. He interjected randomly into the conversation the others were having but for all intents and purposes, it felt as if the picnic had been planned for just the two of you.

At first, you wondered if you shouldn’t try to strike up the conversation about Escobar again. But when you caught Peña gazing at you so openly, you realized he was, yet again, just playing the farce better than you. The behavior he was exhibiting- no one, least of all these narcos, could confuse him for anything but a man in love with his wife.

ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ

It happened just as you were getting accustomed to sitting astride the horse, learning the dips and pulls of its cant. A high-pitched screeching. A streak of color and hooves passing in front of you. Then another. It was enough to spook your horse. Before you could pull on the reins, the horse was streaking across the jungle, away from the manmade trail your group had been following.

You heard a loud curse behind you. Then- your last name. Your _real_ last name. In a strangled gasp.

You clutched the horse tighter around the neck now, holding on for dear life as the horse, foaming at the mouth, charged through the jungle, branches scratching at your skin as you passed by helplessly. Peña had given up your real last name in his panic.

Your eyes were shut tight but you knew you had to do something if you didn’t want to die, but the way the world was moving beneath your feet, you couldn’t get your brain in order enough to think what that was. Reaching for the reins would require you releasing where you held the horse tightly. The jungle crashed around you and for an overwhelming second, you didn’t know which way was up or down. Nausea crawled its way up your throat.

Another sound soon broke through the roaring in your ears, awareness of another presence broke through the certainty you had that you were done for. Another horse was crashing through the wet jungle brush behind you, leaving a string of bilingual curses in its wake.

You’d never been happier to hear the coarse voice of your partner.

“¡No la sueltes!” Him telling you not to let go of the horse was reassuring if unnecessary.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t see just how he managed to maneuver around to the side of your horse while guiding his own without crashing.

“Tranquilita, tranquilita,” Peña was urging in that same soothing tone that struck right to your core, and then you weren’t sure if he was saying it to you or the horse.

Your legs were clutching the sides of the horse desperately, and as it lost speed, you began to realize that you’d nearly lost feelings in both legs from fear.

The horses slowed to a soft trot, but you’d begun falling sideways.

Peña cursed through clenched teeth yet again as he swiveled sideways on his own saddle to catch you.

It was with difficulty that he managed to maneuver you over to his horse, aided by the fact that you were desperate to get off the crazed animal. You launched yourself over to him, dragging your numb leg across the saddle, as he yanked you in his direction.

Then the soothing words _were_ directed at you. You landed in a heap of sorts in his saddle, facing him, straddling the saddle backwards. And as his sturdy arms came naturally around your back to soothe you, despite the fact that you found yourself on yet another horse, you felt safe.

Within the last week or so, something had changed drastically between you two. Somehow, despite your natural inclination to clash with him, you _knew_ , he would keep you safe.

“Te tengo. Te tengo.” He was repeating into your hair. You could feel his lips mouthing the words. The world around you had come to a stop. The horses were shifting in place, neighing softly, but they’d broken off their desperate race.

You clung to him as you tried to catch your breath, still too shaken to be embarrassed. Back home Peña had always seemed so aloof, so standoffish. But you’d come to know a tender side of him that he displayed now by rubbing circles over your back comfortingly. He must have felt the way you were still trembling.

“Estás bien.” He promised into your scalp again. “Te tengo.”

“Yo sé,” you whispered into his chest, but you weren’t sure he’d heard you and you hoped he hadn’t because you hadn’t meant to utter the words.

You’d expected Peña to eventually make a snide comment about you losing control of your horse. Instead, as he clutched you to him, you heard, “Esas malparidas…Sharon y Paloma…”

So he’d noticed. The way they’d spooked your horse into running off. You didn’t know what to think of the way he clutched you, as if he’d truly been worried for your safety, or of the way he cursed the women who’d brought this on you.

Finally, you’d caught your breath and humiliation began to sink in as you leaned back, barely now noting the way you were straddled against him, chests pressed together. You sat back to create distance but it only served to shift your hips closer to his. He didn’t seem to notice, did not seem as acutely aware of your contact as you.

Instead, he took your cheek tenderly in his hand to inspect your face. “You okay?”

You found you couldn’t meet his eyes, both because you were too embarrassed and because the gentle way with which he was handling you was too much. So instead you just nodded listlessly.

He inspected the small scrapes and cuts you’d amassed on your arms from the passing branches. “You’re okay.” He echoed himself now in reassurance.

“Thank you.” You breathed in a hoarse voice, realizing suddenly just how grateful you were that it was him accompanying you on this mission and not another agent. Somehow you didn’t see how anyone could’ve accomplished what he had so far, least of all the ability to make you feel safe. And it was a funny irony that it was coming from the last person you’d have ever expected.

He didn’t acknowledge your gratitude other than to ghost his hand lightly once more over your arm as if his warm touch alone could heal you.

“You gonna be okay to ride back?” He asked, finally satisfied you were as recovered as you were going to be after your ordeal.

You eyed the runaway horse with something akin to suspicion. He chuckled when he saw the look in your eyes. “O sea, conmigo.”

The prospect of riding back in the saddle with Peña didn’t seem as daunting as retracing your steps alone on that crazed horse. “Yeah.” You responded, glad your voice had regained stability, happy it no longer shook with fear.

Peña smirked suddenly. “I’m not complaining either way but- it’ll be a lot easier of a ride if you turn around.”

You glared up at him, at the innuendo and at the expectation that you could turn around in the position you were in. But it turned out to be easier than expected, even if you were still scared. He kept the horse grounded as you twisted around, his helping hands always there, too close for comfort and not close enough.

You let your back melt into his chest, too spent to fight the temptation to just relax and let him quite literally take the reins. He clicked at the other horse, still holding the now abandoned bridle’s reins, at the same time that he dug his heels gently into the horse you were both straddling.

The difference between your ride of terror this way and the one back to the trail you’d left was astronomical. Peña kept his elbows tight around you as his extended arms kept hold of both reins. The feeling was comforting, almost cocoon like.

“Where did you learn to ride like this anyway?” You finally asked the question that had been eating at your mind since this godforsaken ride had started.

You heard him shift his jaw around above you, could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he contemplated an answer. And you realized you might be getting too personal. Before you could take the question back, he was responding, his tone fondly warm.

“My dad’s a rancher back in Texas.”

You wouldn’t have guessed. There’d always been something so cool and slick about Peña, no matter that he’d always, perhaps mistakenly, rubbed you the wrong way. Almost as if he’d been born with the badge and the gun and the need to put away men like Escobar. You could hardly imagine him as a child frolicking on a farm, then as a teenager perhaps helping his family tend to whatever duties were required on a ranch.

“What?” Peña asked, and you realized he’d noted the half smile forming on your face, which meant his eyes weren’t on the trail ahead of you. Your hand flew to his thigh, clutching instinctively for safety.

He chuckled. “I told you,” he said softly, “I’ve got you.”

You glanced up at him, and he was still looking at you. The smile finished finding its way onto your face. “I can’t imagine you as a cowboy.”

Then he laughed. For the first time a true laugh with just the two of you around. “I bet there’s a lot of thing you can’t imagine that I’m actually good at.” Your face grew warm as you felt his hand lower itself to your waist albeit at a respectful height.

“¿Todo bien?” A voice called out from the distance. You stiffened, suddenly remembering the way Peña had called you by your real surname.

The hand already at your waist squeezed you reassuringly. “They figured it was a maiden name. I heard one of the girls saying…” He trailed off as he slowed your approach towards the group. “Si, todo bien. ¡Ya llegamos!”

Then, he buried his face in your neck to be sure only you could hear. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid mistake.” He sounded more than sorry and you realized that on top of coming to your rescue, he must have been kicking himself. Your throat still felt tight at the prospect of having been made, but Peña had a knack for these things. Your hand reflexively went to cover his at your waist, and you squeezed back, indicating your understanding.

You were met half with looks of concern and worry for your well-being and half with jokes made at your expense and the expense of Peña and the way he’d dashed off to save you. No one mentioned the exclamation of your name or carried suspicion on their face. Sharon certainly didn’t look happy to see you astride Peña’s horse.

You were relieved when less than an hour later you caught sight of the barn between the thick foliage of the trees. Enveloped by Peña’s warm body as you were, you’d grown sleepy and looked forward to nothing more but a hot bath and a nap.

Peña helped you unmount and held you steady until you’d regained the feelings in your legs. Then the group slowly started making its way back up towards the house. Pacho slipped an arm around Peña’s shoulder to continue their earlier conversation regarding the diamonds; your opinion on anything business related didn’t seem welcome, and so you fell behind. You glanced sideways and almost bit your tongue when you saw you were now walking side-by-side Paloma.

“¿Dónde está tu cartera?” The concern in her voice was a mockery and glancing around, you realized you’d indeed left your purse behind, though you could have sworn you’d picked it up. Intentionally ignoring Paloma and glad to have a reason not to have to hike back to the house with her, you turned on your heel and headed back to the barn, happy to finally have some peace and quiet.

The voices of the group behind you faded as they found their way into the mansion. Peña had been so immersed in his talk with Pacho that he probably wouldn’t notice you were gone before you got back. You took a deep breath of the air, which had blissfully grown cooler and fresher as the day had waned. You felt freer than you had since even long before you’d arrived here. Despite the deadly mission, the trip itself and somehow your time spent with Peña was doing wonders for you.

You rolled your eyes when you saw your bag tucked between two saddles. Paloma’s idea of a prank no doubt. As you were reaching to grab it, a voice startled you so suddenly, you jumped back.

“Hola muñequita,” but there was nothing sweet about Mario’s voice as he traipsed from the shadows, a leery sneer on his face.

ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ

Peña rubbed his face as he waited for you to make your way from the kitchen. He was anxious to get upstairs and wash the grime from his body. When you didn’t show, he grew irritated, thought only briefly about going upstairs without you before wandering over to the kitchen to retrieve you. But as he rounded the corner, two hushed whispers caught his attention, and he knew from the sound that they belonged to Sharon and Paloma.

“¿Estás seguro que ese malparido Mario estaba en el granero?” Sharon sounded as conniving as you’d tried to convince Peña she was.

“¿No lo viste? Cierto, el estaba allí. Lo vi. Esa perra nisiquiera sabe-“

Peña had heard enough, he swiveled around the corner into the kitchen, fury evident on his face. The women froze in fear, but he didn’t have time to care. He rushed his way through the glass doors at the back of the kitchen, reaching for his gun as he went.

The light in the barn far across the field was dim but lit and he didn’t see you anywhere between there and the house. He broke into a run, then an all out sprint, the gun already clutched in the palm of his hand.

Out of breath from the humid weather, he tore into the barn to see Mario pushing you backwards into the wall. But you were struggling so fiercely that you fell backwards. Your dress caught on a nail sticking out of the wall and tore as you fell, revealing- your gun, strapped judiciously to your upper outer thigh.

Mario froze, giving Peña the opportunity to cock the hammer of his gun. Mario turned slowly to face him, then looked back at the gun on your thigh.

“Hijoeputa, ustedes son DEA-“ But they were the last words Mario would voice. The deafening echo of the gun reverberated throughout the barn, interrupted only by the thump of Mario’s body as it hit the dirt and straw floor.

You stared up at the smoking gun in Peña’s hand, then at his face which was overcome with anger that dissipated as he noted the terror in your eyes. Distantly, from the direction of the house, the sounds of shouts and screams pierced the air.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: I was really really really unhappy with how some parts of this chapter ended up, even after I'd posted it, so I made SOME revisions, nothing major, just slight variations to how things sort of go down, especially in the very middle of the chapter. So I'm replacing my original ch. 5 with the revised chapter. However, it didn't seem fair to get rid of my original update either, for some reason, so I did leave it up on tumblr (@themangolorian) as a sort of alternate 5th chapter, but the below is now "canon" Ch. 5. Thank you all so much for your patience with me!

You sucked in ragged breaths as you ran, your side starting to pinch painfully. The warm humid air of the jungle made it impossible to fill your lungs as you ran. You could hear Peña’s panicked breathing at your side and just behind you. Urging you on under his breath as low as he could. Every time you thought the voices of the men behind you had started to fade, one would yell. Each time, they sounded closer than the last. The roar of a small engine, like that of an ATV, sounded suddenly. Instinctively, you knew headlights would follow. A split second before it would have been too late, you dived sideways into Peña. And then you were both falling, tumbling down a steep ravine. Lights pierced suddenly through the now empty air where you’d just been running. 

_**30 Hours Earlier** _

“Are you alright?” You jumped in your skin when Peña barked the question at you, but your eyes were still darting in terror between Mario’s body and the half-open barn door behind which would appear any second a dozen narcos.

Luckily Peña was not so frozen in fear as you. He was suddenly in front of you, drawing your attention away from what you could only think of as looming doom. He studied you with eyes too soft given the circumstances but when he seemed satisfied, he swiftly moved into action.

Before you could stop him, not that your trembling hands would have allowed it, he was ripping the band and gun from around your exposed thigh. Then he was dropping to his knee and scattering hay out of his way. You opened your dry lips to question him when you suddenly understood: he was hiding the gun.

Peña dropped the weapon in a loose patch of dirt and shifted the hay back over the spot until it was piled high, then pulled you away from the wall.

The shouts and sounds of men talking excitedly were growing louder. They were almost to the barn. Peña pulled you behind him as he made his way to Mario’s body. There, he crouched down and swiftly pulled the now dead man’s gun from the back of his jeans, flipped the safety off, cocked the hammer and then shoved it into the man’s slowly stiffening grip.

Then Peña was turning toward the barn door.

“Espérate,” you managed to croak, your throat almost too tight with fear to speak. Your hand went to the strap of your dress, and you yanked, but your hands were shaky and you couldn’t-

“Déjame.” His voice was nearly tender but then he was roughly ripping the dress strap, jolting you off-balance.

Before you could stop him, Peña was scooping you up in his arms.

“Tienes que llorar.” He reminded you quietly as he strode towards the door of the barn, and you swore you could hear your heart beating through your chest.

You’d never before had to improvise while undercover to this extent, but as you felt more unbidden tremors pass through you, you knew suddenly it was not going to be difficult.

You curled into Peña’s neck as if seeking protection, your nails digging into his shoulder. Before you could stop yourself, the flood of fear and adrenaline you’d been holding back was released. For the first time in Peña’s presence, you began to weep. You were grateful that he merely thought you were putting on an act.

Cradling you in his arms, Peña strode out of the barn. He managed to make the power of his stride appear to be borne out of anger instead of urgency.

“¡Te lo dije, Pacho!” he raged at the man, only one among the many of those approaching.

The group of mostly men, some wide-eyed women, froze in their tracks.

“¿Qué es esto?” Pacho looked bewilderedly past the two of you into the barn where you were sure he could see- the results of what had transpired.

Peña didn’t slow his stride. “Ese hijoeputa tocó a mi mujer. ¡Te dije que iba pasar!” Peña spit out, rage evident in his tone.

“Mario. Muerto.” You heard called out indistinctly from the barn by the men who had rushed in.

Something went hard in Pacho’s jaw, but he was looking at the barn, not at either of you.

Still leaning into Peña’s shoulder, you could feel the tension in the air. Could hear through omission the way everything had gone quiet. As if the entire surrounding jungle was aware that a single sound might break through the lull, transform it into an explosion.

You felt someone brush past and knew from the heady scent of cologne it was Pacho.

Peña you were sure gave no outer indications that he was worried, but you could feel his arms tensing around you.

Then-

Pacho spit in the direction of the barn.

“¡Al fin!”

You released the breath you’d been holding when you felt Peña’s arms go slack with relief. But then he was pulling you closer, his hand cupping the back of your head gently.

The gesture alone brought fresh, real tears to your eyes, and you released a sob you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back. You heard the murmur of distress among the women.

Then Pacho was commanding his men to get rid of the body.

“¿Estás bien, ángel?” You felt a hand brush your arm but ignored the sentiment. Pacho could put on the appearance of being kind, but he was still dangerous.

Then Pacho was putting his arm around Peña’s shoulder and leading you both back towards the mansion, murmuring apologies under his breath and commending Peña for killing the son of a bitch.

Several yards later, Peña put you down gently but drew you into his side covering the back of your head with one large hand, letting you hide your face in his chest. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. While part of you hoped the gesture was convincing, there was another part of you that knew the embrace was genuine - at least for you. Although his holding you was necessary for the charade, you weren’t sure you could get through the next several minutes without his arms around you.

When Peña attempted an explanation as to why he’d taken things as far as he had, Pacho waved it away, reassuring him that Mario had had it coming for years, almost as if he didn’t want to hear what kind of monster he’d actually had in his employ.

Once back at the mansion, Pacho barked out instructions to his staff, directing them to start a hot bath in your room and to provide you with strong warm brandy.

At the foot of the stairs, he clutched Peña’s shoulder and apologized again, assured him that had Peña not killed Mario, he himself would have.

“Que se sientas mejor, mija,” he murmured, a hand lightly at your back, before departing.

You thanked Pacho in a choked voice and Peña draped his arm protectively around your back as he held you at his side now.

You clung to Peña until the two of you were back in the familiar bathroom, and even then you didn’t detach yourself completely. He too seemed reluctant to let you go. Instead he dismissed the staff kindly, thanking them warmly. Only when the door was closed did he extricate himself - gently - from your grip, so as to lock the bedroom door securely behind the staff. Then he was crouching next to the sink to ensure the gun you had stowed there remained in place.

_[major changes to chapter begin here]_

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said through chattering teeth to his back before you could stop yourself.

He froze in place and you saw his body tense with anger. You curled your own hands into fists, utterly ignorant as to why you were even picking yet another fight.

You watched him turn on his heel; his eyes flashed with anger, all the tenderness suddenly gone. “And what-“ He started, barely containing the anger in his voice as he stalked slowly your way, “should I have done instead?”

You were shaking again, almost uncontrollably so, but did not know if it was from anger or fear or the cold. “Not. Kill. Any. One.” You said through bared teeth. “We’re lucky we’re not dead…yet.” You spit the last word his way.

The growl came from somewhere deep in his throat as he finished crossing the distance, cornering you against the warm damp glass of the shower.

You swallowed hard, hysteria rising its way through your throat. This was what you’d wanted, to rile him up if that’s what it took to prevent him leaving your side. Fighting with Peña was better than being alone in that bathroom with nothing but your thoughts and fears.

“We _would_ be dead if I hadn’t done anything,”

“We might end up dead _because_ you did,” you hissed up at him, pushing roughly at him, suddenly enraged, though you knew your anger was misdirected.

Peña’s eyes flashed as he caught the offending hand and pinned it and you against the outer glass wall of the shower.

“¿Eres tonta o qué?” He leaned down to speak the words at you through gritted teeth.

“ _You’re_ the fucking idiot,” you half snarled in response while trying to free your hand but his grip was tight. The satisfaction in his eyes was driving you crazy so you used your left hand to push him away, hard. You suddenly wanted to be as far away as possible from him. From all of this.

But he caught that hand too and then you were both scuffling for the upper hand. The struggle was short-lived and ended only with both of your chests heaving, out of breath, and with you pinned fully against the glass by Peña’s body, your hands affixed by his above both your heads.

You whipped your head forward at his with a growl, trying to headbutt him, but he twisted his head out of the way.

“¡Basta ya!” Peña snarled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Though you struggled against him, he managed to pin both of your wrists with one of his. He used the other hand to hold the back of your neck. Then he was leaning his forehead against yours, so you could not move your head at all.

You began to breathe unevenly. Anger, fear and uncertainty threatened to drag you under. Lashing out at Peña had been your first instinct to release the tension.

“Let me go.” You meant to sound menacing but your voice only bordered on hysterical.

Your breath mingled with Peña’s, your lips only inches apart. He was watching you searchingly, only a shadow of anger left in his eyes.

“Just stop,” he repeated; his voice had dropped several octaves.

The change in tone of his voice made your breath hitch unexpectedly, but that in itself was only further proof you needed to get away from him. Javier Peña, a man you thought you loathed, made you feel things you’d never believed possible and it was too confusing to live with, one way or another, so you wanted to ignore it, but the only way you could was to not be around him.

“Let me go,” you bit up at him, still struggling to move your head and hands. Even your legs were pinned tightly to the glass by his. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

The threat held little weight considering the circumstances.

“Como si pudiera,” Peña lilted at you now, but he wasn’t in earnest and a hint of teasing had entered his voice.

But you weren’t in the mood for banter. “I’m serious, Peña,” you entreated, meeting his gaze head on with your own. But that was a mistake.

Your heart seemed to jump in your throat when you did. You swallowed hard. He wasn’t going to let you go and there was little you could do without drawing the attention of your dangerous hosts to escape his grasp.

“I hate you,” you snapped, jerking your head, managing only to bring his face closer to yours, so much so that you felt his resulting smile and the tickle of his mustache on your cheek.

“No you don’t,” he retorted, inflaming you further, both because he was right and because he knew it.

“I hate you,” you repeated more forcefully, jerking your head again. Your lips brushed his inadvertently. Peña froze at the same time that you inhaled sharply. Your lips were resting just at the corner of his mouth now.

His eyes were hooded over, the amusement at your tirade fading to make way for desire you were sure he saw reflected back at him in your eyes.

_[major changes to chapter end here]_

You were surging up at him in the same moment he was diving down at you. The kiss was nothing like the brief one you’d shared before for show. Instead there was a clashing of teeth and a bruising of lips. You fumbled desperately at him, your arms clutching the back of his neck, dragging him down to your lips. He was scrabbling at you just as urgently, clasping your body tightly against his as he plunged his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned involuntarily, and Peña’s hips bucked into yours at the sound. A growl tore its way from his throat. He broke the kiss to trail kisses across your chin and down to your neck. You cried out softly when he sunk his teeth lightly into the skin at your throat. You clutched the back of his neck when he sucked softly on your flesh. Then you were dragging his head back up to yours.

“I hate you,” you gasped before capturing his lips again, letting him suck your tongue into his mouth. Peña only hummed loudly in response.

You cried out into his mouth when you felt the stiffness of him at your hip. You surged your hips forward into him. He broke the kiss off with a stiff groan, trying to trap your hips in place.

Holding you firmly in place, he went back to the task of kissing down your neck now to your chest. Your fingers tangled tightly in his hair of their own accord when he yanked down the already torn side of your dress to reveal one breast.

He moaned in approval, the sound going straight to your cunt, but then he was leaning further down and taking your taut nipple into his mouth. You couldn’t help it- you cried out loudly in pleasure.

He drew back and you whined at the loss of sensation but-

“Shhh.” Then one large palm was covering your mouth. But this time you didn’t care because then his lips were closing around your nipple again, and he was sucking and laving at the sensitive flesh. You managed to keep your mewling quiet until he took your nipple between his teeth lightly and tugged. You gave a strangled cry into his hand that echoed in the spacious bathroom.

Peña’s hand tightened on your mouth but then he was placing a wet kiss on your nipple before drawing away. Ignoring your plea of disappointment, he turned to open the shower door. The next thing you knew he was yanking you into the shower which he turned on at full blast.

The water was cold but beside a gasp of surprise, it was almost as if the water didn’t register. You were too focused on Peña. And he was focused on you, paying it no mind at all.

Instead, he put his hand around your neck, directing you to the shower wall, neither roughly nor gently.

“Show me how much you hate me,” he challenged you, his voice low and husky.

But he _knew_ you hated when he tried to take charge, so you pushed against him, trying to gain control. But he pushed back. The result was a tangle of limbs as you were pushed up again against the shower wall, though you managed to drag his lips back down to yours.

No matter how much you reluctantly gave into your desire for Peña, you felt as if you could not get enough. He seemed to share the sentiment- because then he was letting go of your wrists and dropping his hands to your behind and harshly squeezing the flesh of your ass, pulling you into him, though you were already flush against him. Your hands dropped into his hair and you gripped tightly, eliciting another raspy groan from him.

Now he was lifting you with a fervent urgency, hooking your legs around his waist so that you were pinned against the tile only by the weight of both his body and desire. He broke the kiss to a moan of disappointment from you but was then sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along your flesh before letting it go and nibbling gently on it, all the while rocking his hips into yours, creating a frantic friction that was building both your desires to an anguishing high.

You dropped one hand down to clutch desperately between your bodies, wanting to feel his length with your bare skin. He let out a choked groan when you found the outline of his dick in his pants and squeezed.

“Peña,” you begged, forgetting how to voice precisely what you wanted from him and hoping the appeal would be enough.

“Fuck,” His voice was rough, as if just the sound of you saying his name was turning him on.

His large palm was suddenly back at your jaw, clutching it roughly. On principle alone, you jerked your head sideways but his grip was too firm.

“How much you hate me?” There was little room for anything but desire in his voice but he managed to inject his tone with a bit of mockery.

You fought harder to escape his grip squeezing his torso as hard as you could between your thighs, but that only served to elicit a groan of pleasure from him.

“The most,” you spit out then.

He grinned crookedly, kissing your lips, pursed as they were between his large fingers.

You nearly shrieked when he dropped you then, but you landed agilely on your feet, gripping his hips. Then you were helping him peel his now wet shirt up and away from his skin. It landed with a loud slap against the shower floor when he threw it, but you were already yanking his pants down, falling to your knees as you went.

You found your lips level with his cock and did not think twice before surging forward, your lips eagerly open. He gripped your head roughly with a guttural moan as you took him into your mouth. Your lips formed a tight o around his girth as you pulled back to run your tongue over his tip, enjoying the taste of his arousal on your tongue. He sucked air sharply in through his teeth, his grip on your head almost painful.

You teased the tip of his cock until he was yanking your head away. So you took him back into your mouth and began bobbing up and down, hallowing your cheeks and lapping at him with your tongue as you went.

“Así,” he grunted. “Así.” The word set your cunt to throbbing and you moaned.

When his hips began jerking almost involuntarily, he stopped you with a firm grip at your jaw. He thrust twice, three times into your mouth, until his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged.

“Fuck,” Peña rasped, jerking backwards.

He slipped out of your mouth with a loud pop but you had only a second to breathe before he was hauling you back up to him and kissing you roughly. He ran his tongue over your teeth, tasting himself, before pulling away to take the hem of your ruined dress in his hands. You helped him tear it up and off of you urgently.

Peña dropped his gaze to take in the sight of your body. A sharp intake of breath that suddenly made you shy. He seemed entranced. When he met your now uncertain gaze, his eyes had darkened somehow further, desire dilating his pupils fully.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Peña said slowly, deliberately. He was gentle but firm now, cradling your face in his palm as he leaned down again to take your lips with his. This kiss was rough but so much more intentional than all the others. He took his time, devoting attention to every inch of your lips and tongue, even running his own tongue across the roof of your mouth. “So fucking beautiful,” he repeated deliriously after breaking the kiss again.

Too shy and unsure how to respond, you grasped his hand and brought it to your lips. You brought his fingers to your lips and kissed them softly all at once, then each individually, all the while keeping eye contact with him. His eyes flashed inscrutably with something more than just desire.

Peña’s index finger snagged on your lips, and he traced the outline of them briefly before you were opening your mouth to allow him access. His middle finger joined his index and he groaned. You closed your eyes in pleasure at the sound and sucked the digits, wetting them with your spit, running your tongue between them, letting him briefly fuck your mouth.

Then he was pulling his fingers out and you opened your eyes just as his fingers found your clit. You cried out, feeling your knees go weak, as you clutched his wrist, though you did not stop him. Using the fingers you’d wet with your mouth, he rubbed light circles over your clit. He had only to dip one finger lower to find you inconceivably wet.

“Fuck,” Peña gasped, gathering the wetness and dragging it over your clit so that you were almost crying his name.

You pushed desperately at his hand until he lowered it further again and you gasped loudly when his middle finger entered you first.

“Peña,” you begged again, catching his gaze, glad to see your hunger for this reflected overtly back your way.

“Fucking- so- tight-,” he muttered as if stringing words together incomprehensibly.

With your grip on his wrist, Peña began to pump his fingers into you, curling them upwards, hitting a spot that made your vision go half blurry.

“Peña,” you sobbed again and Peña’s fingers stopped, still buried inside you.

He was suddenly at eye level, gave you one long blazing kiss, then whispered into your ear. “My first name.” An order.

The tenor of his voice, the demand, almost made your knees buckle. Your head dropped to his shoulder. You swallowed dryly, rebellion warring with desire in your mind. But you were no more than your want in the moment.

“Javier,” you breathed into his skin, wet from the still running shower.

Peña nudged your head aside and put his lips to your neck, kissing, then gently biting the exposed skin there. “Javi,” he murmured into your skin.

You bit back the frustrated moan, not wanting to give in, not wanting him to see the depth of your desire. He nipped at your earlobe and you cried out at the sensations coursing through you. But then his fingers began thrusting into you again, curling up into that spot that made you forget yourself.

“Javi,” you wailed against your will. “Javi.” A throaty plea.

Suddenly he was crushing your lips brutally with his, burying his tongue into your mouth, a rumbling in his throat. The movement dislodged his hand and his cock brushed lightly up against your slit.

Peña stiffened and let out a painful groan. Now he was the one losing control. He ran his fingers roughly up against your clit once more. Before you could even cry out in pleasure, he was pulling you behind him as he threw himself down on the built-in shower bench, dragging you after him. He sat on the edge and jerked you to him, directing one knee, then the other to the tiles on either side of his legs, so you were straddling him.

You could feel his stiff cock brushing the inside of your thigh. You were so drunk with want that you felt one more touch without completion might break you. His hands were on your hips as he positioned your cunt just above his cock. The slightly straining veins in his neck told you he was holding back. You lost your breath when you met his eyes. He was so far gone but in them was a dare. You gasped when your cunt pulsed again at the sight.

“Javi,” you repeated, and his grip on your hips tightened. Your hands flew to his shoulders, anchoring you as you sunk blessedly down, down on him. Your eyes never left his as you did.

Peña let out a ragged, harsh moan, his fingers digging so deeply into your skin you were sure he would leave bruises. But the pleasure you felt drowned out the pain as your eyes shot closed, your lips forming an o of pleasure. He was so big and filled you so fully. Your cunt pulsed around him, though you did not move, and he groaned again almost as if in disbelief.

You only realized you’d been holding your breath when you let it out and began breathing shakily again. Your nails dug into his skin as you lifted yourself back up until only the tip of his cock was within you. You could feel him slightly shaking beneath you from the pleasure of it all as you sunk back down on him. He filled you impossibly more than before and your back arched as your cunt sucked in his length greedily.

Peña’s eyes flashed darkly as you began to ride him and his hips began to grind up into you each time you sunk down. His hands guided you up and down, his pace accelerating until a sharp slap of skin on skin sounded at every thrust. His hips jerked upwards again and again.

You could feel yourself tensing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, almost as if any one movement could shatter you as you held yourself together so tightly. Peña’s breathing grew ragged as you sunk down on him over and over, squeezing your muscles as you went. Both of you were shaking. Any second now-

You cried out in frustration when Peña lifted you completely off him. Your pussy pulsed almost painfully at the loss of his cock. But you had no time to react. Suddenly you were sitting in Peña’s place and he had fallen to his knees and twisted around. Before you could say or do anything, he was burying his face-

“Javi,” you cried out jaggedly, your spread thighs trembling uncontrollably as Peña’s tongue hit your clit, already sopping wet. He sucked your clit between his lips, then ran his tongue downwards and blessedly towards your entrance before dragging it upwards and running it over your clit again. The sounds his mouth were making against your cunt, even with the shower running loudly still in the background, were obscene. He moaned in satisfaction, as if he’d been waiting impatiently to taste you.

“You taste so fucking good,” his groan reverberated through you.

Then Peña’s fingers, wet with your juices, were plunging into your cunt. You whimpered loudly at each and every sensation. His mouth on your clit. His fingers pumping frantically into you. The way his nose brushed against your clit every time he furled his tongue downwards. Suddenly his other hand jerked out of your grip and he was pushing down on your belly just as his fingers curled upwards inside of you.

Your cunt pulsed intensely then and you lost your vision, seeing only black for several seconds as something within you shattered. Your release hit you in waves and you melted backwards into the glass and tile of the shower. A cross between a growl and a scream left your throat, the rest of the noise trapped in your throat. You felt wetness spurting from between your legs. Almost distantly, as if from above, you saw Peña hovering open-mouthed just above your cunt, licking his lips, saw the wetness of your juices smeared across his lips, chin and cheeks, caught in his mustache. You whimpered weakly, barely managing to breathe out his name as your body quivered in the aftershock of it all, feeling almost too weak to move.

You cried out when Peña leaned forward to lap at you one last time. The sensation was too much and gave you enough of a jolt to make you sit up and pull away from him. But at the same time, you were urging him up to face level so as to kiss him yet again. You could taste yourself on his lips and found your tongue darting out to catch remnants of your orgasm from his chin and lips, wondering what his reaction would be. His groan did not disappoint and you made a point of kissing along his upper lip, cheek and chin, gathering your own juices before returning to his mouth and kissing him deeply, tongues swirling around one another.

You were the one to break the kiss this time, and Peña’s lips followed yours upward, searchingly, wanting more. But it was your turn to take control. You pushed him away gently so you could stand unsteadily on shaking legs. You found his dick blindly with one hand and pumped once, twice, so he was bucking into your hand. But then you were turning away from him swiftly and bending over, against the cool shower tile, arching your back and spreading your legs wide.

“Fuck.” He spit. “Fuck.”

“Fuck me,” you ordered him now, looking back from where your cheek was pressed up against the tile.

He wasted no time in gripping your hips and sliding his cock along your slit. You yelped when his tip brushed over your clit. Then he was positioning his cock at your entrance and sinking into your wet cunt. You couldn’t stop the sharp cry that left your lips. The sensation was once again too much and not enough all at once. But Peña seemed past thinking. He pounded into you, sinking deeper than you had even managed to get him while riding him.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you cried desperately into the cold tile, partly in pain, mostly in pleasure. His fingers gripped your ass tightly, as he snapped into you.

“Carajo,” he was muttering, his words slurred. “Fuck,” he managed as he slammed into you one more time before-

You swallowed half a scream when he hit your cervix, feeling your own pleasure building yet again. He stiffened behind you, freezing in place. A guttural groan. Then you could feel his cock within you spurting his pleasure deep into your core. He was coming inside of you. The realization itself, the throbbing of his cock within you and the noises he was making drove you once again to the edge. You gasped in surprise, then a long loud keening moan, when your climax hit again as your cunt began pulsing around him.

“Jesus fuc-“ Peña’s hand slapped hard against the shower wall as your walls clenched tighter around him. Then he was half collapsing over your back, his cheek resting against just the back of your neck. You felt his shuddering breath against your wet skin. Then- a kiss. And another. Soft and sensuous as his cock slipped out of your still pulsating cunt.

You felt your knees beginning to give out. He seemed to anticipate that and before you could fall, one strong large arm came around your middle to hold you up to him.

Then Peña was standing you both up straight. He watched you with wide, soulful eyes. His hands came up to run lightly over the sides of your face. He took your chin in one hand, tilted your head up and kissed you once, twice. Then the tip of your nose. Your forehead.

“I hate you too,” he said into your temple.

You dropped your head to his chest to hide a smile. He held you like that for a few more moments, then leaned away briefly to finally shut off the stream of water behind you both.

The sudden silence in the shower did nothing to stop the roaring in your ears at the earth shattering orgasms you’d just experienced, especially not when it was magnified by the way Peña leaned down again to kiss the side of your neck. You gasped weakly when he bit your shoulder gently, soothing it immediately with a kiss.

Then he took your hand and led you on your trembling legs out of the shower. He was gone briefly before returning with two large warm white towels. Letting you just stand there, he wrapped one cozily around you, folding it over to keep it in place before wrapping the other around his waist. His arm went around your shoulder and he led you as if in a trance back out to the bedroom where he’d thrown the covers back so all you had to do was climb in. When you did, you shifted over to the middle of the bed. Without question, he slipped in after you, covering you both with the blankets.

His arm went sturdily around your waist as he curled his body around yours from behind. You shivered once, now with only pleasure and contentment. Your eyes closed when his lips pursed against the back of your neck once more.

“Duérmete, enemiga mía. I’ll watch over you.”

Feeling more content than you had in years, you let yourself finally melt into him and give in to the demand of sleep hanging over you. Your last sensation of consciousness was the way Peña was rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.


End file.
